


Glue Undone

by argle_fraster



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Loki's scepter, M/M, Mind Control, no seriously dub-con guys, things i write for katie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argle_fraster/pseuds/argle_fraster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the helicarrier, Loki's scepter works more havoc than anyone anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glue Undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soliari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliari/gifts).



> Katie's prompt was "paper-thin" but I obviously did not manage to incorporate that at all unless you count the paper-thin threads holding the team together at this point in the movie. OOOH YEAH PRETENTIOUSLY MAKING THE PROMPT WORK lmao :]

He thinks maybe he should be able to feel it, this thing - this _scepter_ of Loki's that's sitting in the lab suspended by two glass ends. Everyone else can, but Steve can't, and he isn't sure what that means; something bad, maybe, like everything else. Like everything else he does and hasn't done and should have done and the list goes on.

Tension is high and tempers are flared, and he pauses his search through the ship to try and just take a breather. Things aren't like he remembers them being and sometimes it's hard to justify the way the edges don't properly align anymore. He'd thought he was through with surprises.

He's so very wrong. The door opens - the doors that just slide when they are fed an access code, something the agents are trying to plant in his head so he's always got his - and from the footsteps, Steve immediately knows it isn't Fury or Stark. They walk too heavy, too purposeful. Steve looks up when the figure pauses just inside the doorway to the small, militaristic bunk he's been assigned while on-board.

"Dr. Banner," he says.

He doesn't know how to take Bruce Banner. He's practically the reason the man has the problems he does, and that's hard - along with everything else Steve thinks he should probably feel sorry for, it's hard. For a moment, Steve is worried that the scientist's eyes are green, and that it's the end of the line, but a quick look proves that they aren't - they're blue.

They are very, very disturbingly blue, and Steve is so caught up in trying to remember if they were _always_ blue that he doesn't pay attention to the man walking across the room.

"Captain," Bruce says in kind.

"Please," Steve replies. "Just Steve. I'm not... the title doesn't carry over to off-duty."

Bruce raises one eyebrow. Were his eyes really always _that_ blue? "Don't like being in control when you're not on the field?" he asks. "Relinquishing it something you crave?"

"What?" Steve asks.

Bruce is moving, slowly, gaze turning around the ceiling and corners of the room like he's taking stock of something. Steve's seen that kind of military precision; he _knows_ that kind of military precision, and he also knows that Dr. Banner is not a military man. There's something very off with the way he's holding himself, compared to the way Steve first met him, shoulders curved inward almost over on themselves.

"Dr. Banner?" Steve tries again, with trepidation. The room is small. The room is small and the helicarrier is flying through the air and if the man loses control now, at this altitude...

He shouldn't have been sitting. In a laundry list of tactical errors, it's an important one - in a second, quicker than Steve is used to in the new environment, he's pushed down onto his back on the regulation issue cot with his wrists pinned above his head and Bruce's form over him, knees tight at the sides of Steve's waist. Steve's instinctual reaction is to fight, to push; he _could_ get free, Bruce doesn't have that much muscle on him, but Steve isn't sure he should.

Steve is afraid that those eyes will go green, and everything will be over.

"Dr. Banner," he chokes out - should he move? Should he struggle? The fingers around his wrists tighten a bit.

"Seems to me that you're supposed to be the glue," Bruce says. "The glue that holds everybody together. Aren't you?"

Steve's breath catches in his throat. He should just throw the man off, the breach of protocol, the closeness, the heat of - _oh_ , against his thigh, he can _feel_ him. It's almost worse than when he'd get beaten up because he knows he _can_ get out and he's terrified that trying to do so is going to push Bruce over the ledge everyone is so afraid he's going to fall down.

"I'm not-" Steve starts, and doesn't get any further because Bruce's mouth claims his own, hard and methodological.

His mind is screaming at him, over and over, astonished and terrified and _what is Dr. Banner doing_ , and Steve sort of gasps, out of surprise and alarm, which really only gives Bruce the opportunity to delve in between his teeth. His entire body is trembling with - he doesn't even know _what_ , he doesn't know what's happening. Maybe there are 70 years struggling to catch up in his brain.

"Dr... _Bruce_?" he manages to get out, and only because Bruce's mouth has moved on to his neck, licking hot trails down his jaw line and over to the lobe of his ear. His world is spinning. _He's_ spinning, out of control, out of understanding, and into something that he doesn't have a name for. He tries to move, to shift away, and he doesn't get far because Bruce's attention is on his face again. The other man's face is very close to Steve's own wearing an expression that Steve doesn't think he's ever seen there before.

"Seems like you're out of your element, Captain," Bruce exhales.

"I..." Steve can't think of anything else to _say_. He pulls a bit at the weight of the hands on his wrists, but then Bruce growls and Steve is _afraid_ that he's going to unleash a destructive force capable of killing them all. "Dr. Banner."

Then Bruce kisses him again, pulling him open and apart, grinding down against Steve's hips and _oh_ , again, dangling on the edge of something. Steve just sucks in lungful after lungful of air, because it feels like all of the oxygen has suddenly been sucked from the room. His nerves are screaming almost as much as they did when the serum collided with them. He doesn't know which way is up.

He isn't sure they should be _doing_ this, is this the way the world has changed? Steve gasps and Bruce moves against him, and oh _god_ he's hard, he's so achingly hard; he doesn't know anything but how much he _wants_ this, this piece of life that's being forced upon him wearing a violet button-down.

"I don't-" Steve starts.

"I didn't think so," Bruce finishes, dragging his tongue across the curve of Steve's neck and sucking hard, hard enough to sting and bruise. Steve groans, trembling, uselessly grabbing at nothing.

"Dr. Banner, please don't-" but he's not even sure what he's _fighting_ , not when his body is moving up against Bruce's hips without him instructing it to. If Bruce was right, and he was the _glue_ , the team - this can't _help_.

Bruce pulls back only enough so that Steve can see the blue of his eyes and the whites of his teeth as he grins, feral and wide, and says, "Go ahead. Fight me. You want to."

Steve _can't_. He already felt like he was walking on eggshells around the man, and this - he can't _risk_ it. It's being baited out in front of him and he just can't. He throws his head back because he doesn't want to see Bruce's face anymore, can't handle that smile, and then Bruce's mouth is on his neck again, working down, as one hand clamps over both wrists so it frees the other.

Oh _god_ his other hand slides down Steve's torso, to the utility belt, to _skim_ and circle and _touch_ , and Bruce's fingers are pressed against his cock. Steve's own brain can't figure out what to do - to buck up against it, to _feel_ , to _be_ again, or to fight being a somewhat unwilling participant in the experiment.

"Please," Steve groans. "Please-"

"Fight me," Bruce demands, more growl than anything else. "Fight me for it, you ass, you _ant_."

There's something _there_ in the man's tone, something that's _wrong_ , but in the end it's no more wrong than _this_ , this friction between them and this hard, coiling and bubbling sensation pricking like needles all over Steve's skin. It's raining down his spine in short bursts, white-hot behind his eyes, and he gasps again, desperately moving into it. God, it's been so long-

"Fight, you miscreant, fight!" Bruce hisses; it's when he finds Steve's neck again, the exposed area of Steve's skin and sinking his teeth down that the jolts of _everything_ collide together and Steve's lost, coming with a shout that's pain and pleasure so mixed up he can't tell left from right.

He's still shaking from aftershocks, struggling to find his tongue again, his hands, the pieces of himself that feel so _disconnected_ ; Bruce pulls back and away, sparking with anger that should be _doing_ something. Steve is all at once terrified again, terrified that it's _happening_ , that even avoiding it he walked the man right into the path.

The door to the bunk opens with a sliding snap, just as Bruce's back hits the opposite wall sounding like his weight was horribly off-balance. Stark is in the doorway, eyebrows wide and that's when the _shame_ hits, right between Steve's eyes, so thick he can barely breathe in anymore. He doesn't want to look because he can't _bear_ it, already the weight of everything settling in his stomach like a stone.

Bruce's eyes, wide and terrified, lose the blue and go very, very brown.

"Oh my god," he gasps.

"Oh my _god_ ," Steve moans. He drops his head into his hands, unable to _see_ anymore, unable to _think_ \- his thighs are throbbing in time with his temples, and he just wishes Stark would _say_ something, _do_ something anything to break the awful, humiliating tension in the room.

"I came to see if you needed something, because you just walked out of the lab like you had some kind of purpose, and I-" Stark fades off, clearing his throat; even he sounds uncomfortable. "I guess we know what the scepter does."

Steve wants to sink into the ground, fall right through the bottom of the helicarrier; the remnants of everything are still with him, on him, his _suit_ -

"I'm so sorry," Bruce whispers, sounding broken. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

Steve just leaves his head in his hands, palms pressed hard against his eyes, so hard he sees stars in the darkness, and tries to breathe.


End file.
